


A Little More Time

by Asidian



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fate, Final Wishes, Friendship, Gen, Postponing the Inevitable, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9360857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asidian/pseuds/Asidian
Summary: The sun is brilliant overhead – set in a blue sky dotted with clouds that float like wisps of spun sugar through the high arc of the heavens.It's more than lovely. It's entrancing, and Noctis takes one long, final look before he turns his gaze back earthward. His vision dances with sunspots for a moment, afterimages from the blinding light – but when it clears, Noctis sees a small black dog there, patient and watchful as always.Umbra has been waiting."Alright," Noctis says. "We're ready to go back."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I signed up for a dumb road trip with chocobos, not all of these feels.
> 
> Which is to say: this fic is my first in the fandom. It's me trying to work my way through the pile of heartbreak the ending put me through.

"Oh, man," Prompto says, as soon as he sets foot in the door. "I've been dreaming about this place. Check it out – we've got an ocean-front view."

Ignis quirks a smile and crosses to the windows – massive panes of glass covering most of the wall. They look out on the midday sun gleaming on a picturesque blue sea. Far above, the graceful dip of a single white seabird soars like the final brush stroke of a painting. "All for the low price of ten thousand gil," he remarks. "You realize that we might have spent that money on supplies."

"It's not like we didn't save up for this," Gladiolus tells him, moving to drop heavily into one of the hotel room's chairs. It's plush and inviting, and it gives slightly with his weight.

"Aww, c'mon, Iggy," Prompto puts in, "We can always take a hunt or two. This isn't gonna _permanently_ break the bank."

Ignis nods, absently, and puts up no further argument. He hasn't taken his eyes off the sea. Behind his glasses, he has a far-away sort of look, as though he's just woken from dreaming.

"Where's Noct?" Gladiolus says, leaning back in the chair. He puts his feet up on the coffee table – helps himself to the brochure offering skilled massages by trained professionals.

"Fishing already," Prompto says, grinning. "Fifty gil says fishing already."

"We won't have fifty gil left after hotel costs," Ignis points out, deadpan.

"I've got pocket money," Prompto protests. "I've got, like –" He jams a hand into the pocket of his jacket vest, comes out with a handful of coins. "Okay, not fifty gil. How bout twenty-four? Twenty-four gil says fishing already."

"You're on," Gladiolus tells him – and, as though on cue, the door to the hotel room opens up and Noctis strides in.

The prince is solemn; his face is carefully blank, the way it gets when he's upset, and his gaze is distant and preoccupied. "Dinner reservations at six," he tells them, and Prompto groans and sinks onto a bed, as though wounded.

Gladiolus barks a short, sharp laugh and holds a hand out toward his friend. "Pay up."

"Where did you ever find the money for dinner here?" Ignis asks mildly, still not turning from the window.

"Sold some things," says Noctis, and he lifts his eyes to his friends. One is on the bed, relinquishing a handful of gil; one is staring out at the smooth, tranquil lines of the sea; one is reclining, relaxed and easy, promise of a massage still balanced in his hands.

Cautiously, the hard line of Noctis' mouth relaxes into a smile.

 

* * *

 

Prompto's all enthusiasm.

He's practically bouncing with excitement, and he makes no move to conceal it. "Would you look at that?" he breathes, and grabs hold of Noctis' shoulder. "Look how cute she is."

It's true; the black ball of fluff with the big eyes and tiny tuft of feathers is probably the cutest chocobo Noctis has ever seen, and he's seen his fair share by now. She has a demanding way of shoving her head up into an offered hand for scritches, and a plaintive little "Kweh!" when she asks for treats.

"Aww," Prompto coos, and holds out an offering of greens for the bird to begin its feast. "Who's a good girl? Who was our little egg?"

Noctis nudges him – can't quite hold back the smile. "And here I thought you had it bad for Cindy."

"She's gonna have to share me," Prompto tosses back, grinning. But the grin is strained, not quite steady there around the edges.

 

* * *

 

"Wish we could camp right here," says Noctis. "Then we could stay all night."

Ignis shakes his head, though he doesn't look away from the view. Far below Mt. Ravatogh, the land stretches like a shimmering dreamscape, set with rolling hills and jutting rocks and, somewhere in the distance, a tiny outpost.

"The rest of the afternoon will do just fine," says Ignis.

They spend the afternoon, and most of the early evening, on the ledge rumored to have the best view in the world.

And when the moon begins to rise and the stars come out, high and clear in the sky above them, they make their way to the haven, and the flames in the fire pit burn warm and bright.

 

* * *

 

"This time," says Noctis, "I'm not gonna let it get away."

He can feel Gladiolus' eyes on him – can feel the weight of the big man's stare, and for an instant, he regrets suggesting this. He half-expects a reprimand, sharp words about wasting time and shirking his duty, and feels his face go hot with shame.

But Gladiolus says nothing of the kind. He only gives a thoughtful hum when Noctis casts his line into the water. "Wouldn't expect anything less."

The Liege of the Lake, it turns out, is the largest fish he's ever caught. He can't pull it up; the sheer weight of it, slippery and wet, threatens to drag him down into the water.

But Gladiolus jumps in, easy as breathing, and shoulders the monster. It's longer than Noctis is tall, and seeing it laid out there on the dock, with the dawn-lit sky and the glass-still lake behind it, is somehow hard.

"You did good," Gladiolus tells him – and hearing that's hard, too.

Something in the inflection tells Noctis he isn't talking about the fish.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun is brilliant overhead – set in a blue sky dotted with clouds that float like wisps of spun sugar through the high arc of the heavens.

It's more than lovely. It's entrancing, and Noctis takes one long, final look before he turns his gaze back earthward. His vision dances with sunspots for a moment, afterimages from the blinding light – but when it clears, Noctis sees a small black dog there, patient and watchful as always.

 Umbra has been waiting.

"Alright," Noctis says. "We're ready to go back."

He closes his eyes – and when he opens them, the world has gone sterile and cold. The only light is the harsh glare of the strip lights in what used to be Insomnia's subway, once upon a time. The tile is cracked and filthy; the cot Noctis sits on is grey with grime; along one wall, there is a dark smear of what might be old blood.

The light flickers every now and again, like an unsteady heartbeat, and the faces of his friends are grim and stained with battle. Gladiolus has two extra scars. Ignis has no eyes. Prompto is bleeding from a wound on his right arm, where his uniform's jacket has been torn away.

"Thank you," says Noctis. "For letting me… for that."

"You kidding?" Prompto says, and tries on a smile. It's a crooked thing, washed out and pale. "It was awesome."

"Just like old times," says Gladiolus.

Ignis nods. "The opportunity did not go amiss."

Noctis swallows, and finds that he can't bring himself to answer.

He wants to ask Umbra to take them back again – to put the dumb decals Prompto liked on his father's car, or hunt down the ingredients to all the recipes Ignis never got to try, or tell Gladiolus that nothing will fall apart if he goes one morning without waking up early to train.

They could go again. They could.

The future will wait for them.

Noctis closes his eyes. He takes a slow breath in.

"We'd better get moving," he says.

And when no one suggests otherwise, he bows his head and climbs the stairs up into a world of endless night.


End file.
